I circle my bound plaything, his body crucified on the cross, skin taut and begging for my touch. With wicked glee, I pierce his flesh—nipples, scrotum, thighs—hooking glittering orbs that dangle like trophies of his surrender. His chastised cock strains in its cage as I add more, turning him into my grotesque holiday ornament, moans echoing my sadistic symphony. Blood beads like festive dew, his agony my ultimate gift, pushing him to the brink of ecstasy and ruin.
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